


The Universal Language

by AvocadoLove



Category: Arrival (2016), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War Team Iron Man, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Break Up, Time Travel, steve and tony break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvocadoLove/pseuds/AvocadoLove
Summary: Steve knows he's made makes in his life, but if he can learn to see Time as the Heptapods do... he's convinced he can go back and set things right.Unfortunately, it's not about the destination. It's the journey.(Arrival fusion)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 182





	The Universal Language

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this fic on and off since I got the Arrival on DVD. It's still one of my favorite movies. 
> 
> I stalled out in the middle for years because while writing this I knew it wouldn't have the happy Steve/Tony end game that people would want. And at the time... Fandom was a little spicy. I hope things have calmed down. Then, I had to see how End Game washed out before I could figure out how to end this. So, it took awhile.
> 
> Needless to say HUGE SPOILERS for the 2016 movie, Arrival. Watch it first, please. It's great. I tried to replicate the jumpy nature of that movie. Let me know if it works for you or not.

Steve was annoyed to find out that the Chutari were not, in fact, the first aliens to land on Earth. Wasn’t one invasion enough?

"The Heptapods, yeah," Tony said when Steve had asked. Tony was in his garage/workshop laying on his back half under an engine of an Italian roadster. The man was always tinkering at something, even when he wasn’t building inventions for the Avengers. "Hepta—seven. Pods. Feet. Big and ugly." He stuck his hand down so all fingers touched the concrete floor, palm arched. "Looked like a hand with the wrist being a head... and they stood about three stories tall."

Steve shook his head in wonderment. A part of him wondered if he would ever get used to the surprises of the future. "What happened?"

Tony shrugged and, probably figuring Steve was in his conversation for the long haul, rolled out from under the engine. He had a smudge of motor oil on his cheekbone and Steve had to curl his fingers into a fist to resist the urge to wipe it away.

"They came, spooked the soul out of everyone as original Jarvis used to say, then left. Said they'll be back in about three thousand years."

Steve blinked. "That's... it? Why?"

"Aliens. Who knows what thought-equivalents go through their brain equivalents." Tony's words were pithy, but his gaze darted everywhere but at Steve.

Steve sat back, taking it in. "What was it like?" He'd heard about the nations up at arms around the world. How the world had almost gone to war over the stress of will-they-won't-they alien invasion. He wanted to hear about it from someone who had boots on the ground.

To his surprise, Tony smiled.

"Amazing," he said.

* * *

Later, after Steve realized he was being a coward and making the same mistake he had with Peggy by waiting for love… after Tony finally let some of those walls he had built up between them fall... after an awkward confession and some of the best times of his life, Steve found Tony sitting up in bed, reading from a ridiculously thick book. _The Universal Language,_ by Dr. Loise Banks.

"They still make books the old fashioned way?" Steve teased, but his words hid an undercurrent of grief. Trust this new century to try to improve on something as tried and true as a book. He didn't understand or like eReaders.

"Reference books are still better in dead-tree format." Tony closed the tomb with a thunk. It was obviously well-read, with the pages yellowed with age.

Curious, Steve joined him on the bed and held out his hand. "What is it?"

Tony blinked, then paused. At first, Steve thought Tony was afraid Steve would laugh at him. Later, he would look back at that hesitance and wonder.

"It’s the language of the Heptapods." Tony handed the book over.

Steve flipped through a few pages. "They sure like circles. These are supposed to be words?" He pointed to what looked like ink splatters attached to the rings.

"More like concepts. Remember that Star Trek: Next Gen episode we watched the other month? Darmok and Jalad, where the aliens only spoke in metaphors. It's the same deal, only on top of _that_ the Heptapods don't have a linear concept of time. See?” Tony tapped one illustration with his fingers. “It's a ring. Each sentence doesn't have a beginning or an end. There’s no fixed point in time."

"And you understand this?" Steve asked.

Tony grinned. "What can I say? It's a gift. Literally. The Heptapods gifted their language to the humans before they left."

"Some gift." But Steve was no longer paying attention. Tony looked sleepy and content in their bed. It was rare to have Tony in their bed like this, relaxed and stressed.

Placing the book on the nightstand, he pulled Tony into his arms.

That night, Steve took Tony from behind. They were both on their sides—easier for Tony, with less weight on his chest, with Steve hooking an arm under Tony’s knee to give him access. Tony twisted around to kiss him, moaning into his mouth when Steve went from smooth, deep thrusts to short, choppy jolts meant to hit right against Tony’s prostate.

“Steve… Steve…” Tony gasped, mouth slack, body twisting as he rushed toward orgasm. His dark eyes were unfocused like he was looking somewhere else. “Don’t leave…”

 _I’m not going anywhere_ , Steve thought. Here, in Tony’s bed, deep within Tony’s body, was the only place he ever wanted to be.

* * *

That night, Steve dreamed.

He was at Bucky's wedding, putting on a brave face. Clint pulled him aside.

"You don't have to do this, Cap. If you need to tap out, let me know."

"I'm fine," Steve lied.

It was a strange dream. Bucky had been dead for going on seventy years.

Or so he thought.

* * *

Bucky came back. Steve chased and chased, and maybe that had been a mistake because when he was looking the other way… Tony began politicking to put a muzzle on the Avengers in the form of the Accords.

Then Siberia happened.

* * *

The reply to Steve's letter never came. Instead of a phone call in reply to Steve's FedEx'ed olive branch, he received a package of his own… two days after news broke that Tony Stark had died in Siberia.

"No," Steve said--or maybe he thought it, _screamed_ the word in his mind. "No, Tony was... he was fine when I left. Awake and talking." Yelling, actually. But emotions had been high and Tony... Tony had never been graceful when losing.

Then the state funeral had happened, live on TV. (Closed casket.) And instead of a phone, Steve received a package in the mail with a terse note from Rhodey explaining that Tony had wished for Steve to have it.

Steve lifted _The Universal Language_ by Loise Banks out of the package.

His heart thudded. He knew that Tony had a plan. Everything was going to be alright.

* * *

"Tony knew," Steve insisted. Part of him knew he probably looked like a mad-man right now. The Dora Milaje were subtly drawing closer in threat, but he didn't care. T'Challa _had_ to understand.

"He kept this book in our bedroom at night. I caught him reading it more times than I can count. He _knew_ the Heptapods language, which meant he _knew_ what he was walking into when he went to Siberia. Don't you understand? Tony would have never committed suicide like that."

"Mr. Rogers." In direct contrast to his hostile lady bodyguards, T'challa's gaze was very sad. "Tony Stark did not commit suicide."

* * *

"What’s that?"

Steve looked up from _The Universal Language_ , startled. He had never heard Clint's voice come out so cold. "It's the language of the—"

"I know what that is," the archer snapped. He strode over and slammed the cover shut. His expression was thunderous. "I know what you're trying to do. Steve, listen to me: The past is past. It's a fucking sham, you understand? The past is past, the future is head and we are right here."

His raised voice brought attention from Sam and Scott who were in the kitchen.

"Clint." Natasha's voice was gentle.

But Clint hadn't looked away from Steve's wide eyes. There was a fierceness he'd never seen from him before, a sort of wild anger he had kept well buried. "Every time someone's life goes to shit, they start studying the language of the Heptapods. Guess what? Even those who actually understand it and see the way they see… _nothing_ ever changes for them. They just get to be smug bastards and claim time is a circle, like our fate is sealed and we don't have a choice. Well, we do. Learn from the past and move forward. It's worked for the human race so far."

"Clint!"

There was a bit more urgency in Natasha's voice.

Clint snapped a looked at her, startled. They stared at one another. Then Clint nodded once, his shoulders relaxing.

"Stay away from the Heptapods, Cap. That's all I'm saying," Clint threw over his shoulder as he left the room.

Scott whistled low. "What was that about?"

"His first wife wrote that book." Natasha's smoky voice was calm.

* * *

"You're coming at it all wrong." Bucky's quiet voice pierced the conversation, scrambling Steve's concentration. He had been at the book for days trying to decipher the blocky ink splotches. He'd always been more of a tactile learner and decided to draw them out in frustration.

But the words—if they even could be called words—had no real shape, no form or concept. Steve could spend an hour learning the dips and divots of one just to be flummoxed by the next. It wasn't like spelling, with the same characters he could learn by rote. Every circle was unique.

"What do you mean?"

"Heptapods don't view the world within time." Bucky rolled his shoulder in a shrug.

Gritting his teeth, Steve reminded himself that snapping at his best friend would not help anyone in this situation. "That's the point, Buck. If I can learn to think like them..."

But Bucky had come over and tugged the piece of paper away. He flipped it over to show a blank sheet. Then, to Steve's surprise, he took up the pencil Steve had been sketching the "word". Then, grabbing a second pencil, Bucky began to draw two hepto-glyphs... at the same time, with each hand.

Stunned, Steve held the paper and watched Bucky compose a ring of neat hepto-glyphs. They met in the middle: A perfect ring.

Bucky set down the pencils and stared at him.

"Steve, you think if you can figure out time, you can go back and change the past. You're wrong. There is no past. No future. There just _is_."

Steve hadn't felt this winded since before the serum. "You've read the book, Buck?"

"No," Bucky said. "But I will. Later."

It took a few solid seconds for Steve to wrap his mind around _that_.

"Then... then you know why Tony went to the bunker, knowing what would happen?" He didn't wait for Bucky's reply. "Why did he attack you, then? Why wouldn't he stay down? Why did he keep attacking until I... I..." he couldn't finish it. The crunch through the arc reactor haunted his dreams. Closing his eyes, Steve still felt tears behind it. "Tony could see the future, so he must have known I was keeping the truth of Howard's death from him. He still forced me to..."

"Steve."

He opened his eyes. Bucky was staring at Steve with that same pity T'Challa had given him.

"You're still thinking of it as past, present, and future. Tony from the future didn't watch that video with the murderer of his parents three steps away. Tony who lived right then did."

"I don't understand, Buck!"

Bucky sat back, considering.

"Remember when your Ma died?"

"'Course."

"Well, you can think back on it, right? Hurt's a little less with time and... memory. But it still doesn't change what happened at that moment. As many times as you can go back there in your head, it doesn't change how you felt then."

"But that's a memory."

Bucky sighed like Steve was being the obtuse one. Then, to Steve's surprise, Bucky pulled him into a rough hug.

"You think you're the first man to lose control and kill his sweetheart?"

"I... didn’t… it was an accident. Tony wouldn’t stop, and I..."

Again, Bucky sighed. "Clint's wrong about time, but he's right that the book isn't good for you. Let it go."

Steve drew back, wiping his eyes. "You know if I ever get to understanding this, don’t you?"

"So what if I do? Whatever I tell you, it's going to end up the same."

“No,” he said, one hand laying possessively over the cover. "Tony had a plan. I _know_ him."

"Maybe, but you won't figure it out sitting alone and obsessing." Bucky's gaze hardened. "On your feet, Steve. You broke apart the Avengers. How are you going to fix it?"

It made a certain kind of sense. For the first time about hearing of Tony's death, Steve tried a wobbly smile. "Thanks, Buck."

"Don't thank me yet."

Then to his shock, he got a second hug. A shorter one. But still. Considering how standoffish Bucky had been, it was amazing.

"I've missed you, Steve."

There was a world of meaning in Bucky's words, but for the life of them, Steve didn't know if he meant the seventy years of separation in the past, or of another separation in the future.

* * *

T'Challa had placed Steve's ex-Avengers in a wing of his very own palace. It had all the luxuries and shielding, but angry, raised voices still carried. And Steve had super soldier hearing.

 _The Universal Language_ in hand, Steve stopped outside the door and listened while his teammates gossiped about him.

"Is this guy for real? Have you been hearing what I’m hearing?” Scott demanded shrilly. "He's like every stereotype of every abusive boyfriend in a Lifetime movie." His voice took on a deeper, authoritative clip, mimicking Steve's own. "Stark should have known his place, it’s his fault for getting in the way of my fists.” Scott dropped the mimicry. "So, did Stark run into doors a lot back in the states, or--"

"This isn't funny, Scott," Natasha chided.

"Do you see me laughing? This is me, freaked out. Captain America straight up killed his lover, and I sleep three floors away from him. What if he gets angry at me because I took the last of the cornflakes?”

"One thing doesn't have to do with the other." That was Sam, but he sounded weary. "And it was a battle, Scott. Clear self-defense. Bucky and Steve agree that Tony was out of control."

"Really? Because that's not how the world sees it. We're not heroes. We're fugitives."

“Public opinion is easily swayed.” Natasha piped in. “As for Tony and Steve’s relationship, remember that Steve grew up in a different time—"

"Yeah, sure. But there is a huge difference between 'One of these days, Alice, pow, right in the kisser' and—"

"Steve made a mistake."

Steve sucked in his breath as the new voice spoke, getting louder as he entered the room. Though he wasn't in there, he could feel the tension sharpen like a knife.

"How long have you been there, Bucky?" Clint asked.

"Long enough to figure which way the wind is blowing. This century has put Captain America up on a pedestal, and now you're pissed because, guess what, he gets angry and fucks up like the rest of us. That’s nice. That’s real nice, Lang."

He could hear the bristle in Scott’s voice. "I would never hurt someone I loved. Not like that."

"Yeah, well Steve's paying for it. You’ve seen him studying, day and night, just for the hope of putting things back together. I'm not saying what happened in Siberia was right. I'm not saying you have to like or agree with it. I’m saying Steve’s doing what he can to set things right. What are any of you doing here, other than living off T'Challa's dime?"

"It will never work," Clint said heavily. "That book's a lost cause."

Steve let out a breath. "You're right," he said and stepped in.

If he thought the tension in the room was high before, it was nothing to now. Steve strode forward, ignoring the way Scott stood as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to run or fight. He ignored, too, the looks of guilt and sullen anger. Not all of the ex-Avengers had been as outspoken as Scott, but no one was happy.

Steve focused on Bucky who was the only one gazing at Steve with a sense of sympathy.

"I've tried,” Steve said, glancing down at the book. “Lord knows I've tried, but I just can’t read Heptapod. You can. You… you already do." Then, steeling himself, Steve held _The Universal Language_ out to Bucky as if he were passing a torch.

"Barnes, don't," Clint said, half rising. His voice was pleading. "You don't understand what that kind of knowledge can do to you."

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes, I do," he said flatly. Then he took the book out of Steve’s grasp.

And maybe Steve was coming to understand a little of this Heptapod seeing-time thing, because he knew that Bucky would read it, would take the strange language into himself in a way Steve never could. Bucky would do it _now_ because he already remembered doing it in the future.

But that wasn't all Bucky would be able to remember.

Steve looked at them all. "I don't understand why Tony thought he had to follow Bucky and me to Siberia he _knew_ what would happen. I don’t know why he pushed—why he wouldn’t stop attacking. I just know that Tony always had a plan B, and he wasn’t ready to die. Not like that." Again, he looked at Bucky. "So, what do I need to do to bring Tony back?"

Bucky looked down at the book, tracing over the title, _The Universal Language,_ with his metal finger. At last, he glanced up at Steve. His expression was terrible.

"You’ll lose everything."

"That's fine," Steve answered without hesitation.

Bucky let out a long breath. “Ask T’Challa to put a word out to a doctor named Stephen Strange.”

* * *

Time may not have a past or future as most humans understood it, but that still didn't stop a self-named Sorcerer Supreme from using a time gem to go back and save Tony the moment before his death.

Tony Stark returned to the world just as the battle for Earth against Thanos' forces went underway.

By most reports, the Iron Man suit was the last piece of tech to finally tilt the battle.

Steve and Tony met while the wreckage was still smoking. Tony stared at him, then socked him hard in the jaw. Steve didn't try to defend himself. He deserved it, if only for hiding Howard and Maria's death if nothing else.

Tony was alive. He could be angry at him. He was alive. He told himself that’s all that counted.

* * *

In the worldwide joy after Thanos's defeat, all talk of the Accords was set to the side. The Rogue Avengers were finally allowed to come home.

Tony refused to see him.

Steve had few resources left in the states. Sharon Carter had long since disappeared, and Nick Fury operated in the shadows. Asking for his help meant working for what was left of SHIELD. Steve wasn't ready for that, but... Tony didn't return his calls.

Sam's house had long since fallen into foreclosure, so he, Steve, Bucky, and Wanda spent nights at Sam's elderly mother's house. There wasn't much free space in her two-bedroom house. Steve was glad to have a piece of the floor to himself at night.

Tony was still punishing him for Siberia for both their mistakes. Late at night, listening to the snores around the tiny house, Steve tried not to dwell on the unfairness of it all.

He found Bucky packing two days later.

"Planning on taking a trip?" Steve asked.

He didn't slow. Just zipped up his duffle bag with its two changes of clothes. They had all left Wakanda with hardly anything more than the clothes on their backs... and they hadn't been invited to return.

"I remember apologizing," Bucky muttered. He couldn't quite meet Steve's eye. "Won't be fun but it's something I gotta do. For me. For... him."

_Him._

"For Tony, you mean," Steve said.

Bucky nodded and reached over to grab the Universal Language off a table before he tucked it into his bag.

Steve tried to keep his voice level. "You've been in contact with Tony?"

"I know where he will be."

"Bucky--"

"This is something I gotta do alone," Bucky said before Steve could offer--could _demand_ to come along. "For him. For me."

There was a hard look on Bucky's face. Steve held up his hands. "Alright, Buck. But could you tell him..." Tell him, what? Steve was sorry? Of course, he was sorry, every minute of every day. He wished he could go back in time and stop his shield from coming down. But at the same time, there was anger too because he had done everything he could to make things right and Tony had shut him out. "Tell him to call me. When he's ready, I'll be here."

"Sure, and maybe you outta take the time between now and then to think about why he'd be upset with you."

Steve stepped back. "He knew what would happen when he followed us to Siberia. When he attacked you. He wouldn't stop fighting, Bucky..."

"Save it," Bucky said harshly. Then he gentled his words by pulling Steve into a rough, but short hug. There was something about it that sent Steve's alarm bells ringing.

"Is this the part where I lose everything?" Steve asked.

Bucky drew back. "I might have exaggerated. But it doesn't mean right now is going to be fun. I love ya, punk. Remember that."

He wanted to ask more, but before he could, Bucky swung the duffle up over his shoulder and walked out.

* * *

One year to the day, Tony finally paid him that visit.

Through this time, Steve had vacillated wildly between desperate clinging hope (Bucky would find a way to talk sense into him) to depression (Tony was too stubborn to see sense, and Steve had no way to reach him) to sick, hot betrayal (he had seen the tabloids and news reports of Tony and Bucky's friendship).

Today was an angry day. So when Tony's Iron Man suit finally touched down in the courtyard of Steve’s small economy apartment, Steve greeted him with a curt, "Stark."

Tony didn't miss a beat. His helmet retracted, showing a face that Steve still loved--though there were definite wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. "Rogers."

There was a tense silence. A thousand emotions tried to swim up Steve's throat at the same time. Damn it all, he was so angry but he still loved this aggravating man.

"Is it true?" Steve asked.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

You and Bucky? But he could not bring himself to ask that. Not yet. "I read the Universal Language book. You can see the future?"

Tony hesitated. Then, raising one gauntleted hand, he waved it back and forth in a so-so gesture. "It's less about seeing the future and more about... experiencing time differently."

Steve stepped forward. He tried not to notice how Tony flinched. He was being dramatic. If he could 'experience time differently' he ought to know that Steve would never hurt him.

"You knew what would happen between us," Steve said.

"That you would hit me so hard I bled out alone in a Siberian Bunker?" His voice was light. Deceptively so.

Steve clenched his fist. "That you would come back. You knew what would happen if you chose the wrong side."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "You still think free reign to enact vigilante justice on any country is the right side, Cap?"

"That's not--I don't want to get into this with you. The point is, you're punishing me for something you knew would happen." His voice cracked. "Why did you let me fall in love with you if you never meant us to be together."

At this, Tony hesitated. A distinct flash of pity and regret lit his eyes.

"You ever hear the term 'it's not about the destination. It's the journey.'"

Of course. Of _course_ Tony would try to brush it off.

"That's not good enough," Steve said.

He shrugged one armor-plated shoulder. Steve noticed that, aside from the helmet, he had not taken off the suit. "IT's what I got. I'm a futurist, Cap, but even I know you can't live your life tomorrow. You have to live it today. The time we had..." His gaze softened. "I wanted it, even knowing the end. It was that good."

"It can be good again." The words slipped out, desperate, unbidden.

He knew it was the wrong move immediately. Whatever softness was in Tony's eyes hardened.

"You have to have seen the news reports. Bucky and I are practically the princes of TMZ."

Steve had never had a bigger lump in his throat while frustrated. "I don't watch..."

"Steve."

"Bucky should have told me."

"I insisted. I thought--I dunno--it would bring closure."

Then from a hidden compartment in his sleeve, he brought out a fancy invitation. "It would mean a lot to Bucky if you came."

Steve didn't take it. After an awkward moment, Tony set it down on a simple patio table.

Steve forced himself to swallow the knot in his throat down. "Bucky warned me that I would lose everything. But I didn’t care, just as long as you were back."

Tony sighed. "You haven't lost everything, Cap. Just me. And we had... good times. The best."

"You can see the future," Steve insisted. "Do you and Bucky... Will it last?"

"Wow, right before a man's wedding? Rude." But Tony seemed to have expected this question. His smile edged towards wistful. "He knows what he's getting into to. I'm told I can be quite the handful."

"Tony..." Steve reached out.

Tony stepped away. "Goodbye, Cap."

Don't leave me, he wanted to say, blinking tears away. Not yet.

Instead, frustrated, wiping at his face he asked. "Why are you giving me an invitation if you already know what I'm going to do?"

Tony's expression was sad. He didn't answer, only flipped the faceplate over his head.

Within seconds, Iron Man was arcing up to the sky, taking Steve's heart with him.

* * *

Steve finally understood Clint's hatred for his ex-wife's book.

Over the last year, he had purchased his own copy of _The Universal Language_ and had tried, yet again, to read it. To internalize it. To fix what had gone wrong.

After Tony's visit, he built a small fire in his back yard and threw it in.

* * *

Of course, he went to the wedding, late though not to be noticed and to take a seat in the back. Clint was the first to spot him and pull him aside.

"You don't have to do this, Cap. If you need to tap out, let me know."

"I'm fine," Steve lied.

Clint snorted.

As he watched the two grooms meet each other under a beautiful white and gold canopy, a wave of Deja Vue hit him so hard he staggered in place.

"Whoa, there." A hand slid under his arm to steady him. Clint was not the one who caught him. Steve looked up to see Sam standing by his left side.

Sam gazed up in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Steve glanced again to the alter and frowned. The odd moment had passed. "I think I... may have dreamed this, once."

"They look good together," Sam commented.

Steve's heart clenched. "Yeah. They look happy."

They watched the vows and the kiss. Then, as the party broke up to the reception, Sam squeezed his arm. He hadn't let go the entire time.

"Want to get out of here?" Sam asked.

Steve breathed out, and with it... he felt something go. He looked down at his friend.

"Yes. Yes, I do."


End file.
